


werewolf bucky, angel sam and one small two room. what could go wrong?

by cettevieestbien



Series: a ship, an au, and ao3. what could go wrong? [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angel Powers, Angel Sam Wilson, Gen, Immortal Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Torture, POV Sam Wilson, Sam-Centric, Supernatural Elements, Teen Wolf-like werewolves, Werewolf Bucky Barnes, future ot5, kinda pre-slash, not really - Freeform, slight Angel Riley (Marvel), slight Ghost Darcy Lewis, slight Shapeshifter Steve Rogers, slight Vampire Natasha Romanov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 08:31:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5659648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cettevieestbien/pseuds/cettevieestbien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>not much apparently, because these two are boring.</p><p>OR,</p><p>“Well, okay, if you’re sure. But wait, did I hear gun? He has a gun?”</p><p>“Yes,” Sam gossips, happy his friend is finally on topic. “Have you ever heard of something so weird? A werewolf with a gun.”</p><p>Tony hmm’s. “Is he open to talking? The last time I heard of such a thing, it was one of those vegan half-zombie freaks with a gun.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	werewolf bucky, angel sam and one small two room. what could go wrong?

**Author's Note:**

> first fic in a series of fics. will include steve/sam/nat/darcy/bucky in later fics, which i have wanted to write again for ten million years.

Sam is used to the beings that come through his home. There are the big and bad, and the small and innocent, and they often have little in common. But there is one thing that connects them - they are hunted for being not human.

 

The being in front of him, part man and part wolf, is both. He is human, and not. He is big, and he is innocent. He comes to Sam, asking for repentance, asking for protection.

 

He says his name is “Bucky”, a nickname from Buchanan. Sam has a brother named Baruchiel, the first version of the name Buchanan. 

 

He always houses these creatures, out of compassion and sometimes pity, for as long as he can, but this one he gives a home to.

 

* * *

 

The longest any one creature stayed was his fellow angel, “Riley”. He laid in Sam’s bed, and told stories of his travels.

 

Riley stayed for a year. The average time for most other visitors is two days. They often get paranoid and leave, set for the Norse god who will serve as another link in the chain.

 

It is not unlike the Underground Railroad of the times of black slavery. Some humans are part of the chain, while it is mostly made of non-human beings.

 

Riley had been on his way to Thor when he was captured. Lucifer holds him, now. He is as dead as an angel can be, and Sam can feel every sin he must commit.

 

* * *

 

Bucky sleeps in the bed Sam’s mind still says is meant for Riley. He sits hesitantly and acts like he doesn’t understand when Sam tells him he’ll be staying and that this will be his bed.

 

But he does understand the offer of food, and he eats like the dog he is. He eats like there are competitors who will consume his food if he doesn’t do it fast enough. Blue eyes are left narrow, aimed at Sam the entire dinner.

 

Sam is nonplussed. He’s an angel of the Christian god, he cannot be harmed by the werewolf even with his weaknesses. The Earth is not kind to his grace, but he has connections, friends, former boarders, and his own strength.

 

It’s one of those former boarders he asks a favor of. Once Bucky has locked himself in his room, oddly making sure Sam knows he has a gun, Sam goes to the part of his home he uses for prayer.

 

The room is sealed, and Bucky’s ears should be unable to hear him speak. It’s like that for a good reason. God is in this room, sometimes, to check in on his son, and He should not be forced to listen to Sam’s human problems.

 

His human problems range from blasphemous to mundane. This is more of a problem belonging in the middle of his scale.

 

He asks Tony Stark, the youngest immortal being, for information on the werewolf in his charge. Werewolves are not meant to have guns, nor look the way Bucky does. Bucky has no hair on his chest, no facial hair except eyebrows. Werewolves are meant to live in a partial shift, with their eyes bright and their bodies hairy. They are easily picked out in a crowd.

 

Bucky does not meet these criteria. It’s concerning, bringing up the thought that maybe he’d been one of the ‘wolves in the recent overpowering of HYDRA. 

 

Tony looks into it while he’s still on the phone - it’s said that Tony is the child of Hephaestus and Athena. The way he knows things, the way he gets information so quickly, is proof, as is the secure communications systems he’s made for the chain.

 

“Says he  _ was  _ in HYDRA labs for a while, official story is that he got separated from the Rogers ‘shifter and Romanova vamp during a raid. He got taken in New York, was in labs in Russia and Austria for a little while a piece, a few months each, and ran on a test mission in DC.” Tony sounds as though he reads what he says, but when he continues, he sounds more like his normal self. “I don’t think that’s all true, though. Some’a these facts don’t add up.

 

“And Sam, I know you’re a kind soul and all that, but I’d kick him out if I were you. HYDRA doesn’t go after just anyone.”

 

“But Tony, this boy has a gun. He eats as though he will be punished if he doesn’t do it quick enough, and he didn’t understand me when I told him to take the bed.”

 

“Whoa, the bed?” Tony questions incredulously, missing Sam’s point. “Are you sure that’s something you’re okay with?”

 

Sam exhales slowly, closing his eyes. He rests on his calves, knees pointing to the front of him. Not quite the praying pose, but it’s good enough. He prays to his God for the heartbreak to go away, to leave his voice when he speaks.

 

“Yes, I am sure.” Thankfully, his voice doesn’t waver. Tony doesn’t comment on the pause.

 

“Well, okay, if you’re sure. But wait, did I hear  _ gun _ ? He has a gun?”

 

“Yes,” Sam gossips, happy his friend is finally on topic. “Have you ever heard of something so weird? A werewolf with a gun.”

 

Tony hmm’s. “Is he open to talking? The last time I heard of such a thing, it was one of those vegan half-zombie freaks with a gun.”

 

“No meat cleaver?” Sam asks. He’s never housed a zombie, as those are usually reserved for bigger homes, where the host can be away from them. Sam’s home is two bedroom with a couch. Though he is one of the best protectors, his house is too small. Especially when he airs out his wings. Despite that, he’s never heard of a zombie without a meat cleaver.

 

“Nope,” Tony reveals. “ _ But _ , back on topic, this Bucky guy. The shifter and the vamp are looking for him, got a reward and everything. They say his name is James Buchanan Barnes, by the way. I know Romanova myself, but I’ve never met Rogers.” He rambles on about his father and the fabled Captain for several minutes.

 

“What’s the point, Tony?” Sam cuts in when he hears a sentence end.

 

“The point, Sammy, is that I’m pretty sure he’s James Buchanan Barnes. As in, the famous soldier who died and was then revealed to have a furry fury.” He chortles at his own joke, while Sam sighs and looks around the prayer room, no bigger than a closet. When he finally calms down, several minutes later, Tony continues, “I don’t think you’re taking this as seriously as you should be.”

 

“If you are that sure that a being not a zombie, shifter, empath, witch, fairy or immortal has been resurrected, then I will call the line tomorrow, when I wake up.” Sam will not, but Tony doesn’t have to know that. He has his reasons, anyway. 

 

“You better, Sam. I have to go now, but call me again soon, would you? I like talking to someone who’ll actually listen.”

 

“Ha ha, that was a good one Tony, you know how I hate the sound of your voice,” he jokes.

 

Tony gasps theatrically. “You know what, man?” He hangs up without another sound, just as Sam suspected he would.

 

Sam texts him seconds after,  _ how dare you _ . He doesn’t expect an answer, honestly, because Tony only stops talking when he absolutely has to. If there were no reason for the immortal to hang up, he wouldn’t, not even for a joke.

 

Sam stands and stretches, arching his shoulders and listening for the crack in lieu of actually letting his wings out. 

 

The conversation with Tony was nice, not something he’s done in too long. But it’s late now, and he feels the ache of fatigue in his bones.

 

He leaves his phone on the table, confident he’ll be able to hear if someone calls. Then he starts to walk to his room, slightly dragging his feet. When angels tire, they tire fast.

 

When he passes Bucky’s room, he hears moaning. It’s happened, on occasion, that he has had beings in the house that… engaged in extracurricular activities, but this doesn’t sound the same.

 

Sam won’t go into a room he’s not sure he’s invited in, even if it’s a room in his own house. The only time he will is if someone’s in danger.

 

Instead of going in and checking on the boy, he does something to the room that is in his own - a ward to stave nightmares. Once he’s done, he goes to his own room and closes the door lightly. The ward has a side effect of making the people affected light sleepers, and he doesn’t want to wake Bucky.

 

Making sure his own ward is in place, he finally lies down in bed. He’s asleep as his head hits the pillow.

  
  


When Sam wakes, it’s to the sound of a growl and something ripping open. He jolts out of bed, grabs his knife, and throws his door open.

 

Sam has had angry, emotionally-repressed, aggressive beings in this home. There have been centaurs in the house. He will not let anyone harm his things, or others, be they the humans down the street or the mermaid next door, not for anything.

 

He’s expecting something awful. He’s not sure exactly what, but what’s actually happening isn’t it. Bucky is baring long, sharp fangs at his microwave and a bag of popcorn. When he senses Sam, his head whips around.

 

Blue eyes flashing, he growls, “how does this stupid thing even work?”

 

Sam’s shoulders fall, and he lets the knife land on the counter. What a mundane problem to have, so different from where Sam’s mind went.

 

Bucky’s eyes flick to the knife, but he doesn’t make any threatening moves towards or away from Sam.

 

Leaving the knife where it is and slowly making his way to the stretched out hand, Sam makes it clear he will not harm Bucky in this moment.

 

He reaches for the bag, and tells the ‘wolf, “you just open up the microwave and put it in.” He demonstrates, then says, “don’t use the popcorn button on there, though. They go in for 1:36,” he presses the right buttons, then hits start.

 

He doesn’t say anything, done with his teachings. He’s done this before, with a little kid vamp who didn’t know how to do it due to lack of exposure to microwaves. Bucky doesn’t speak either, no  _ thank you _ ’s or  _ leave _ ’s.

 

If this is who Tony thinks, he should be able to make his own popcorn.  _ James Buchanan Barnes was known to like popcorn _ , he thinks.  _ You’d think he’d know how to make his own _ . 

 

Sam doesn’t say anything about that, either.

 

* * *

 

As far as manners go, Bucky seems to have some. He’s quiet, he says please and thank you. He offers to let Sam get more sleep, tells him “I can smell your… tired, if that makes sense.”

 

He looks frustrated as he says it, like he expects Sam not to understand. But this isn’t his first rodeo and Bucky isn’t his first werewolf.

 

“Fatigue is a better word for it, I’ve been told,” he says, calm as you please.

 

Bucky just stares at him, confused and feeling things he doesn’t understand.

  
  


His manners fly out the window the second his wolf comes to the surface of his control, though. First the popcorn, then the TV.  He doesn’t seem to have any idea what to do with it or the remote, but he insists on having the damned thing.

 

Sam, technically, could will Bucky to give him the remote, but it seems like too much of a violation, like it would give Bucky a reason not to trust Sam.

 

And, well. Sam can’t have that. But at the same time, he does not want to watch another rerun of White Collar. There’s a F.R.I.E.N.D.S marathon on, which is what he should be watching instead of this.

 

“Bucky, can’t we come back to this later? It’s on Netflix,” Sam tries repeatedly.

 

Bucky just growls at him again.

 

* * *

 

This goes on for a few days. Sam watches less TV than he expects, seeing as Bucky watches it at any given chance, and put the remote down his pants when Sam tried to take it back.

 

Sam, after a few hours, drops it. He also doesn’t force Bucky to sit at the table with him and say grace before meals.

 

Bucky doesn’t want to, there’s no desire in his thoughts about saying grace. Sometimes, the beings he houses are curious, or have old memories about the ritual, and he’ll invite them to join him. But with Bucky, he seems… not opposed, per se, but not receptive. He doesn’t want to, Sam doesn’t make him, and they eat at the table (Sam) and at the couch (Bucky).

 

It works for them. They have a routine, they work around each other. Bucky even acts like a dog when Sam comes home from the grocery store, trying to sniff out any injuries Sam’s hiding.

 

That all changes when a witty ghost asks for a place to stay, a few weeks later, and Bucky is forced to share Sam. 


End file.
